


Thaw

by kenaran



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Episode: s02e07 Home Part II, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 06:11:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13184010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenaran/pseuds/kenaran
Summary: Another late night conversation. I'm beginning to see a pattern here... This time it's on Kobol, beginning of S2.





	Thaw

**Author's Note:**

> First published: July 2009 (Survival Instinct). I am making a conscious effort to not rewrite texts that have already been published elsewhere in order to focus on finishing new works. So, no changes. That does not mean I will not appreciate feedback.
> 
> Disclaimer: We all know who they belong to and it ain't me.
> 
> Not the most original setting (or title), I know, but somehow the end of the show has made me all nostalgic. Miss them.

Nothing in her life had prepared Laura Roslin for this. Well, nothing had prepared her for anything that had happened within the last few weeks turned months. But this? This was taking things to a whole new level. 

Back on Caprica, a lifetime ago, her father had used to take her and her sisters out camping. While she had always enjoyed the family time, she had never really warmed up to the whole going wild part of the equation. The idea of willingly surrendering all the wonderful amenities of civilized society just didn’t compute. Now that those amenities had become so very scarce, losing what little remained had proven to be even less appealing.

Yet, here she was. Well in her fifties, not exactly in good health at that. Lying ‘inside’ not even a tent but a mere tarp. During yet another downpour. In a pitch-black forest. Containing Cylons. And frakking mines. On Kobol, of all places. Next to the man who had put her in prison. Desperately trying to sleep. 

And failing miserably. 

So much for trying to distract herself from the cold that seemed to have taken up permanent residence within the very center of her bones – all of them. Just think about something else, that had been the general idea. Cataloguing the circumstances, however, obviously hadn’t been the most fortunate choice of topic. As cold as ever, she now was majorly irritated as well. At herself, the gods, the Cylons, at – cliché as it was – the weather and, last but in no way least, at the fact that the soldier members of their little hiking party had deemed it necessary to not actually use their sleeping bags the way they were supposed to be used. As if ‘being able to get up quickly if need be’ was reason enough to freeze to death… Just as she was trying to decide who was most deserving of her scorn, the voice of her tarpmate, whom she had believed to be fast asleep, made her jump: “You’re cold.” 

“No shit, Sherlock.” she found herself hissing. 

Silence. 

Listening to the echo of her words, she couldn’t help but wince. Way to go, Laura. Why don’t you just tell him to go frak himself while you’re at it? “I'm sorry, that was completely uncalled for. I didn't mean to snap. I apologize.”

She didn’t know what kind of answer to expect, but a chuckle had not been on the fairly extensive list of possibilities. “Excuse me?!”

The laughter stopped, but the voice still carried mild amusement: “Sorry. I accept. And for the record, there's no need for a litany like that any time you happen to lose your temper. I'm not going to relapse into insurgency all that easily.”

Now it was her turn to snort with amusement. “Good to know, Commander.” It sure was. “But really, I am sorry. And yes, I'm cold. I've been cold pretty much constantly for weeks now, but ever since we set foot on this sorry excuse for a planet I've been downright freezing.”

“Ah. This would be where I refrain from pointing out who led us here.”

“This would be where you prove to be a very wise man then.” In the ensuing silence she felt herself longing to be able to see the smile he must be wearing.

He spoke up again: “Seriously, Laura. I'm reasonably warm. Don't take this the wrong way, but if you were to scoot a little closer, it might get downright cozy.” 

Now, that was a tempting offer if she ever had one. At the moment nobody would even be able to see, no matter how hard they might be trying. Still, morning would come. Eventually. At least, that was the one bit of hope she was – 

“Of course, if you prefer to spend another night freezing instead of sleeping, then that's – “

Smug bastard. “I certainly don't. I'm just worried about the ever looming threat called – “ he joined her in time to make it a chorus: “ – the press.”

He continued: “Your choice, obviously. But I wouldn't worry about that too much. Sharing body heat really is one of the most effective and therefore universally acknowledged means of keeping warm. It’s even part of the military survival guide, you can tell them to look it up. I’ll be happy to provide a copy if need be. Also, let’s be honest, when we get back, everyone will be so relieved to see us being civil again, they'll hardly complain about us being too friendly.”

Good points, she had to admit that. None of them nearly as convincing as the fact that she found herself starting to shiver though. Also, all things considered, it was much more of a military than a political decision anyway. So really, who was she to argue?

“Whoa!” He flinched at her touch. “You weren't kidding, you are freezing!”

Instantly, she started to pull away again. “I'm sorry, I didn't –”

“Sssshh...”, he pulled her close and proceeded to carefully arrange their blankets, taking care to cover most of her head in the process. Finally settling down, he all but pulled her on top of himself. As if his actions actually needed an explanation, he added: “All the more reason.”

Remembering their earlier conversation, she tried to stifle the giggle that started to rise up. That particular feat of self-control never had been her forte, however, and her latest attempt did nothing to improve her track record. 

“What?” 

“I’d have to go with the wuss diagnosis, Bill.”

They shared a small laugh. Again. This was rapidly turning out to be a rather common occurrence. Also, a rather nice one. 

“Laura?”

Okay, so much for sharing laughs. His voice had turned dead serious.

“Mmmh?”

She felt him clear his throat. “I know the words are going to sound trite, but I want you to know how sorry I am. To hear you're sick, I mean.”

“Mmmh.” Not the most encompassing answer, true, but it wasn’t exactly her favorite choice of topic either.

Bill was not to be discouraged though: “I don't know why you chose not to tell me – and I fully respect your right not to. But if it was because you were afraid I might use that knowledge against you, then I am truly and deeply sorry for allowing you to get that impression. For I would never do that. Ever.”

Huh.

So, not only did he not question her silence, he was actually apologizing for being one possible cause? Wuss, indeed. Very likeable wuss at that. Somehow the very fact that he didn’t demand an explanation, made her feel he deserved one. “For what it's worth, it wasn’t so much choosing not to tell. More along the lines of never getting around to choosing to tell. If you get my meaning? With everything that was going on, I was kinda – ”

“Overwhelmed?”

“To put it mildly, yes.”

“I totally get that. Hard not to, really.” 

He had a point there. Still, it had been easy enough not to get each other just a little while ago, hadn’t it? Before she could ponder the thought any longer, he continued: 

“For how long have you known, anyway? If I may ask...”

“Since the day of the attacks.” She felt more than heard his sharp intake of breath at her words, his arms around her tightening just a bit. 

“Not a good day that.”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Good thing you had my staunch support to rely on.” 

His remark, and its deadpan delivery, completely caught her off-guard, but after a second or two of digesting it she found herself snorting loudly, feeling and hearing him do the same. After managing to calm down a little, she couldn’t help but note: “Seems like you’re right about people not complaining about us being too friendly. I’d have expected to be told off for the ruckus by now.”

“Told you so. Still, we probably shouldn’t strain our luck. You better yet?”

Was she ever. “Much. Downright cozy.”

“Good. Get some sleep then.”

“You too, Bill. Thank you.”

“Pleasure.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know, they don’t have a Sherlock Holmes on BSG. They’re bound to have some other character like him though and, considering her weakness for mystery, it just seemed like a very Laura thing to say. Just think of it as part of the translation from Capricanese ;) 
> 
> And in case you’re wondering – I wouldn’t know about the Colonial Forces Survival Guide, but sharing body heat indeed is part of the US Army Survival Manual:   
> http://www.aircav.com/survival/asch15/asch15p02.html#s6 
> 
> Last but not least, if that ‘wuss’ thing doesn’t ring a bell, I very much recommend going here:   
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UHdqYe_Tr1I 
> 
> Believe it or not - feedback, any feedback, makes me a happy woman.


End file.
